On a summer riverbank (1990)

I am he, hands, feet, arms, legs,
I am me, hands, feet, arms, legs, begs
the question, who am I?
Someone who sees eye to eye
with who he is, such that she
tips the wink to me for she
appreciates stability
in men like me, so I sigh
for lost love not, but for the edge
I had before the hedge
I made, round the garden green
where she, I, are now seen
her arm on mine while she sleeps
and with that touch my soul she keeps,
so for the sword I do not care,
turned, as it is, to the gold ploughshare,
for if beneath these summer trees
and by my love and upon my knees
I fell and prayed to God for bliss
He would define it just as this.